𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑪𝑯𝑩𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑬𝑹

“ I tell you, you walk this earth as all evil things do, by the will of God, to make mortals suffer for his Divine Glory. And by the will of God you can be destroyed if you blaspheme, and thrown in the vats of Hell, for you are damned souls, and your immortality is given you only at the price of suffering and torment ! ”

Independent Laurent of the Vampire Chronicles. vtm verse included. 

Bold what applies. Italicise what somewhat or sometimes applies

BODY / long legs. short legs. average legs. slender thighs. thick thighs. somewhat muscular thighs. skinny arms. soft arms. toned arms. muscular arms. toned stomach. flat stomach. flabby stomach. soft stomach. six pack. beer belly. lean frame. slender frame. muscular frame. voluptuous frame. petite frame. lanky frame. short nails. average-length nails. long nails, manicured nails. painted nails. dirty nails. small waist. thick waist. narrow hips. average hips. wide hips. big feet. average feet. small feet. soft feet. slender feet. calloused feet. calloused hands. soft hands. big hands. average hands. small hands. long fingers. short fingers. average fingers. broad shoulders. underweight. average weight. overweight.

HEIGHT / shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm to 150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180cm. 183 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m.

SKIN / pale. fair. rosy. olive. dark. tanned. brown. blotchy. smooth. acne. dry. greasy. freckled. scarred.

EYES / small. large. average. grey. brown. black. blue. red. green. gold amber. hazel. violet. doe-eyed. almond. close-set. wide-set. squinty. monolid. heavy eyelids. upturned. down turned.

HAIR / thin. thick. fine. normal. greasy. dry. soft. shiny. scruffy. frizzy. curly. wild. unruly. straight. smooth. wavy. floppy. cropped. pixie-cut. short. shoulder length. back length. waist length. floor length. buzz cut. bald. jaw length. vermilion. mohawk. white. platinum blonde. golden blonde. dirty blonde. ombre. light brown. mouse brown. chestnut brown. golden brown. chocolate brown. dark brown. jet black. ginger. auburn. dyed red. dyed any “ unnatural color ”. streaked. thin eyebrows. average eyebrows. thick eyebrows.

TATTOOS & PIERCINGS / full sleeve. quarter sleeve. thigh tattoo. shin tattoo. wrist tattoo. lower back tattoo. hand / finger tattoo. foot tattoo. neck tattoo. face tattoo. chest tattoo. one tattoo. a few here and there. multiple. no tattoo. monroe piercing. nose piercing. septum. nipple piercing(s). genital piercing(s). industrial piercings. earlobe piercing. helix piercing(s). prince albert piercing. eyebrow piercing(s). tongue piercing. lip piercing(s). tragus piercing. angel bites. labret. stretches out ears. navel piercing. inverse navel piercing. cheek piercing(s). smiley. nape piercing(s). no piercings.

COSMETICS / light eyeliner. heavy eyeliner. cat eyes. mascara. fake eyelashes. matte lipstick. regular lipstick. lip gloss. lip balm. red lips. pink lips. dark lips. bronzer. highlighter. eye shadow. neutral eye shadow. smoky eyes. colorful eye shadow. blush. lip liner. light contouring. heavy contouring. powder. matte foundation. shiny foundation. concealer. wears make up regularly. wears makeup from time to time - (laurent would wear makeup in the theatre)

SCENT / floral. fruity. perfumes. aftershave. cocoa. moisturizer. natural soap. shampoo. cigarettes. leather. sweat. food. incense. marijuana. cologne. whiskey. wine. fried food. blood. fire. metal. rain. grass. ocean. autumn leaves. baked bread. freshly baked cookies. smoke. campfire. lavender. trees. pumpkin pie. musk. rose. gingerbread. peppermint. oak. honey. lemon. vanilla. coffee cake. mint. rawhide. chemicals.

CLOTHES / jeans. tight pants. over knee socks. tights. yoga pants. pencil skirt. tight skirt. loose skirt. tight / formfitting dress. cardigans. blouse. button up shirt. band t-shirt. sports t-shirt. sweatpants. tank top. cut off t-shirt. designer. high street. online stores. thrift. lingerie. long skirt. miniskirt. maxi dress. sun dress. tie. tuxedo. slacks. cocktail dress. high slit dress / skirt. loose clothing. tight clothing. jean shorts. sweater. sweater vest. khaki pants. suit. hoodie. harem pants. basketball shorts. boxers. briefs. boxer-briefs. hot pants. hipster panties. bra. sports bra. crop top. corset. ballerina skirt. leotard. polka dot. stripes. glitter. silk. lace. leather. velvet. cotton. chemise. patterns. florals. neon colors. pastels. plaid. black. dark colors. fur. faux fur.

SHOES / sneakers. slip-ons. flats. slippers. sandals. high heels. kitten heels. ankle boots. combat boots. boots. cowboy boots. knee-high. platforms. stripper heels. bare feet. loafers.

tagged by: @terreur <3 !

"Down," The word flies through the mesh of his mask like a hoarse bark. His fingers twisted into Laurent's naked flesh, hooked into his arm, the Chosen drags his companion back behind the parked truck, Oh John shivering from the radio. The rattling of gunfire erupts, not yet to attack, only to warn. Perhaps misguidedly so. Thought they could scare them off. Beraiah places a flat palm between Laurent's shifting shoulder blades, feels the river's clammy dew on his skin. No force, not yet, only a command: stay. It is his duty and honor to protect the preachers, the miracle workers, the mothers and children. He cannot risk a baptist; he cannot risk this baptist.

His eyes dart back to the would-be convert, a ranch owner that was dragged out of his house kicking and screaming. Ber remembers, he was there. They marked him for this fate, submerged in the BLESSED/BLISSED waters of the Henbane river. Now the crumpled figure kneels in the shallows, water dripping from his chin, too dazed to hear even the arriving cavalry. Resistance trucks come to a screeching halt, guns poking out the rolled down windows. But the shooting has stopped as they survey the abandoned scene. Look how they calm, how they flirt with vainglorious contentment. Anger jolts through Beraiah so viciously, for a moment he thinks his heart stopped around it.

His sin is not wrath. He does not rage and rave. It was never his way. But he can feel the aborted baptist trembling under his fingertips, his cool skin taut over tensing muscles. He strains back to his work. He is not done. But Beraiah is not thinking of liturgy. He is dog-minded, striving forward, teeth bared. SACRIFICE THE WEAK. A hoarse voice explodes in his head. The Herald's voice, Jacob's voice.

Cull the herd, do what you must.

Let them have nothing.

So when the rescuers, three men one woman, hesitantly approach the rancher, trying to appease his confused stammering as he licks more water into his mouth, Ber knows where to aim first. The long neck of the assault rifle slides along the curve of Laurent's pale shoulder. He is sorry not to warn him, but not sorry enough to wait. His round descends upon the congregation before their impure hands can reach the restraints. The hostage drops dead, splashing into the river that eats it without a second thought. Panic blisters and blazes. They fumble for their weapons, turn wildly, shouting their fear like bleating lambs before the slaughter.

Beraiah stands up and opens fire.

This is not waste. There is no waste in carrying out the Will of their Father. But there is no sanctity in sacrilege.

Laurent trembles with fury in outrage of the profane, the sin at the temple steps. Still dripping with the waters of the Henbane, Laurent is blind as his charge is torn away from his arms, bleating in the confusion of a stolen kid. It had been perfect, perfect, made without flaw, soon made a brother or an unblemished calf. Laurent had been unwilling to yield to the crunch of gravel at the river’s edge until Beraiah is forcing him to cover, and he knows that this is promise’s end. Wrath sears white behind his eyes, burning hot like the purifying bulbs strung from the holy vault of his Herald’s chapel, promising everything in yes. They could have had the world with yes. 

The smooth skin of the barrel slides over his shoulder before he had sensed Beraiah move, and Laurent’s ears ring with the clarion report of the shot before he even feels the kick shiver over him, bite through to his teeth. Laurent breathes out, stills for him, waits. The bullet rips through the rancher like a finger of divine lightning, its body jerking into the consecrating river. It was not designed to be a degrading end.

Still, he does not wait to watch the man die. Paradise was never meant for everyone.

Laurent tenses at the heated press of steel at his back, rusty paint flecking his skin where Beraiah’s broad hand had warmed the damp of the river away. He remains crouched from where the Chosen had pulled him, and for a moment the world is swollen with pregnant silence as the morning the reaping had begun. And then Beraiah stands, and righteousness explodes from the seething mouth of his gun.

His knees in the dirt, Laurent twists at once to pull the beretta strapped at Beraiah’s hip. His fingers settle around the textured grip with the gesture of a devout as his prayers click in the chamber, and Laurent readies them.